Scarred
by BatmanOtaku
Summary: Natasha is a wildfire, fierce and unstoppable. Clint is a boulder, calm and unmovable. She never expected anyone to see beyond her imperfections. He never expected anyone to touch his heart. A couple months into their partnership, they both began to feel something they both could never anticipate. Follow them on their road to finding each other, through their battles and scars.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everybody! I'm a brand-new writer, and I thought I should write about one of my fave pairings of all time...(drumroll) CLINTASHA! OH MA GAWD! Anyway, this is a story starts a couple months into the partnership, where their relationship is strictly in the denial zone, and Natasha displays her formidable trust issues. And Clint is a total badass idiot. This is about how Climy broke down her walls over time and how they came to be(don't wanna say "in love" cause Natasha doesn't believe in that).**

**I love reviews. BUT PLEASE DO NOT give me short stuff! I like listening to what people think of my writing, and constructive criticism is what makes writing better. But no flames either. If you clicked on this story just to give me some shit, you can go away. Rated T for language, and some action in future scenes. I won't write anything totally over the top unless someone wants me to.**

**DISCLAIMER:Don't own Avengers or any characters other than my OCs. If I did, Clintasha would have a comic dedicated to them.**

_**Clint's Age:24**_

_**Natasha's Age: 22**_

**_Scarred:Chapter 1  
_**

_SHIELD Training Room: 1500 hours_

"Don't be afraid to get close, Barton!" Clint scoffed inside his head. That was easy for Coulson to say. HE wasn't the one fighting the best hand-to-hand fighter in SHIELD. HE wasn't the one about to get his ass massively screwed.

Natasha Romanoff stared at him with her sharp and calculating green eyes. They circled around on the spar mat, trying to get a good read on each other. Phil Coulson, their handler, sat in a chair flipping through various documents, glancing up at the pair now and then. Natasha had her long fiery red hair tied up in a ponytail, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her neck from an earlier exercise. Clint was only wearing a wife-beater and cargo pants.

Clint stroke first, flashing his left hand quickly at her face. Natasha reacted instantaneously, blocking his strike with one hand and using her other hand to brace against his forearm, going for a flip. He reversed their positions, using his greater arm strength to break free and launch a roundhouse kick. She using her flexibility to back flip, sustaining her weight on her forearms for a moment and letting the leg zip past, before flipping back and retaliating with her flying legs. Her legs opened wide, and Clint found himself suddenly on the ground with Natasha straddling his stomach, and her forearm pressed to his neck. He struggled uselessly for a bit before giving up and tapping the mat in defeat.

Natasha sprang off of him, and he felt a whoosh of air return to his lungs. "Aw, _fuck_." He bumped the back of his neck against the spar mat, groaning loudly.

She smirked at his ruffled state."Wiped out, Barton?"

He scowled and stretched a crick in his neck. "You always beat me, Romanoff."

"You're not bad. You're the only one who can keep up with me anyway." She shrugged and snatched a towel from a nearby rung, throwing it at him. He stood up and patted his damp face.

"Aww. You like me." He cooed.

"Shut up, Barton. I am not above cutting off your manly pride." She said coolly.

Phil walked up to them just as Clint was about to remark, and glanced at his watch. "Cut it off, you two. Almost time for the debrief. Don't want to keep Director Fury waiting."

They walked down the hall of the southern wing of the giant Helicarrier. The wing was usually reserved for senior and field agents, more commonly known to the juniors as the gold mine. There were only about thirty or so field agents cleared for missions, and half of them were usually out of commission from their last mission. Field agents reported to a relatively large boarding room for debriefs from the big man himself.

"Wonder where's our next mission,eh Romanoff? I'm personally hoping for somewhere in Europe. Rich tastes in wine, wonderful mafia, and tons of good-looking women." He wiggled his eyebrows at her appreciatively.

She rolled her eyes and punched him, making him rub his arm with a mock pout. "Must I remind you the _last_ time we were in Europe? Freakin' Ukrainian drug dealers! And their fucking guns! Not to mention the fact that your stupid high-tech bow just had to malfunction on that mission."

"Don't blame my baby! She can hear you from down the hall, Romanoff!"

They bickered all the way up to the briefing room, only stopping when they noticed something weird.

Nick Fury was a calm man. He was resourceful, sharp-witted, and one kick-ass secret agent. So Clint and Natasha did knot expect to see him pacing around the giant room like the world was on fire.

"Agents. Right on time. I'm assuming thanks to Coulson." He gestured for them to sit, and passed two manila folders over to them, with details of their mission. Clint's playful expression hardened into the seasoned agent everyone saw him as. Well, almost everyone."Location?"

"Apulia, Italy. I believe you've heard of the mafia organization Sacra Corona Unita."

Clint nodded."It was founded in Apulia, wasn't it? But it died off in the 1990s. They're still around, but they're not doing anything too drastic last time I heard."

Fury's one good eye bore a hole into the open files in the agents' hands. "Apparently they're trying to get attention, since SHIELD caught video feed of major shiploads of drugs being handed off to who we assume is the Columbian Drug Cartel."

Natasha flipped another page, scanning. "Specific target?"

"Emilio Orsino. He's a well-known business man in the area, and is a shift suspicious character. Shady, and very smart. He runs multiple warehouses in the city, and has connections to prevent any snooping. He's making an appearance in two days at a gala promoting the drugs disguised as new meds. Agent Romanoff will attend and take him out. Agent Barton, you'll be sniping out anybody who tries to stop her. Orsino is the primary focus, but try to prevent anymore of those shipments if you can. Take off at 1900 hours. Good luck, agents."

Natasha and Clint nodded and tucked their files under their arms for closer reading later. They stood, and turned to leave. "And agents?"

They looked back at their grim-faced boss questioningly. He stared at them in turn, a warning in his eyes. "Don't take any unnecessary risks. I don't want to have to send a goddamn rescue team after you."

Natasha looked slightly insulted. "It's a mission, like any other. We know damn well that there are risks. Come on, Barton." She snatched the edge of his uniform and marched out.

Fury watched them leave and breathed a quiet sigh. Strike Team Delta was without a doubt, the most successful field partnership at SHIELD. Fury had been wary of the Black Widow when she first defected. It had seemed so impossible that the ice-cold Russian assassin could be convinced to switch sides. Clint Barton was the only one to truly believe that the Black Widow had something good inside her, deep down. Fury could still remember the argument that had convinced him to let the woman stay. The stubborn brat was too damn persistent at times.

(FLASHBACK)

"BARTON! GET IN HERE!" Fury's booming voice made several agents walking outside his office flinch. It was rare when the Director was this pissed. If he was, theN you better run away as fast as your legs could carry you. Having a super-spy, not the mention the TOP super-spy, on you was not good.

The said agent hesitantly marched in, to a seething Nick Fury. "What the _hell _do you think we're playing here, Barton? What makes you think you can just walk in here and bring along the most dangerous liability to ever live with you?! Your orders were to-"

"I know what my orders were, alright?! And Romanoff isn't a liability." He snapped.

For a brief moment, Fury felt a bit of respect for the young agent, before he continued. "What makes you think that she is stable enough to work for this organization? That woman is a child-born spy. She's a Soviet spy gone rouge and has murdered many important people for some cash. She's a natural liar and killer."

Clint nodded, but his steely blue-grey eyes showed no movement in judgement. "Sir, I believe she deserves a second chance. She could be a valuable asset to SHIELD. I'll watch her myself. The fact that I'm not lying dead right now means she wants another chance."

Fury stared down his best agent. He had to admit the kid had a point. "One month, Barton. She's on trial for one month. If she's as good as you say she is, she can stay."

Clint grinned, but Fury held up a hand. "You'll be responsible for her though , Barton. I'm partnering you two up. I'll take it up with Coulson."

"You won't be sorry, sir."

"Don't give me a reason to be, and I won't."

(PRESENT)

"Hey, Romanoff?" Clint held his precious bow in his hand, testing the string by plucking his finger against it. Natasha glanced up, idly wiping one of her numerous knives. She eyed his preferred weapon, wondering what was so good about it. Clint acted like it was _literally _his baby. She just didn't understand that idiot. It was just a piece of retrofitted metal. "Hmm?"

"Why do you think Fury was so nervous?" He put his bow down on the steel table and picked up his new supply of arrows. They were at SHIELD's relatively large weapons unit, checking over all their weapons. Natasha strapped on her thigh holsters and groped around on the table for her dual Glock 26s. Clint tossed them to her and she slid them in. "He would be edgy about any high security risks."

"I guess." He shrugged, then grinned, are loading his sidearm, a Heckler and Koch P30."So, how're we playing this one? Your lovely seduction skills will be in use, I presume? That entails tight, low-cut, and... complimenting little dresses." He eyed her curves with an arched brow and a shit-eating grin.

Natasha's eye twitched and she sucker-punched his jaw...hard.

"AW,COME ON ROMANOFF!" He yelled. He cradled his bruised jaw and his wounded ego. She snorted, actually _snorted,_ and rolled her eyes. "Suck it up, Barton. I know that didn't hurt. Besides, if I actually wanted to break your jaw, you'd be unconscious right now." She said it in a matter of fact tone. Clint whimpered and continued inspecting his weaponry, muttering under his breath, "Vicious Russian."

The edge of her jaw twitched upwards.

(LINE BREAK)

After 10 hours of straight out flying, Quinjet Delta landed in Apulia, Italy. SHIELD had booked a motel room across from the pricy hotel Orsino was staying at for the assassin duo.

Clint and Natasha unpacked in the tiny two-person suite, setting up a scope on Orsino's room. Natasha was bustling herself by flipping through a dress catalogue while Clint took a quick shower.

The bathroom door opened, and Natasha snorted at something on the page. "Jesus, Barton, you would think these supermodels have next to no meat on their-" She looked up and faltered when she saw an up-close view of Clint's face as he peered at her magazine. She smelled his shampoo, and the undertone of his natural, musky scent. She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat.

"So, when do you want to go get some food, Barton? I'm starving." He grinned at the mention of food.

"You feel like pasta, Romanoff?"

**So, our lovely duo is in Italy! So excited! I'm going to try to update at least once a week. But no promises! Please review!**

**~~BatmanOtaku~~**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:** Hi everyone! It's the day of the gala! I'm sorry that I'm kind of time-skipping, but I want to get to the good part! :)**

**(Natasha's Dress): search?um=1&client=safari&hl=en&biw=1024&bih=672&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=2lI2UvyzCqOjigKPkoCYBg&q=black+semi+simple+gown+leg+slit&oq=black+semi+simple+gown+leg+slit&gs_l=img.3...379865.385313.0.386..1015.9j0j1.10.0...0.. .1c.1. ..11.0. 19nZ8xk#biv=i%7C61%3Bd%7CrTmc8xlt8VLY9M%3A**

**Please review!**

_Scarred: Chapter 2**  
**_

_Apulia Culture Center: 1800 hours_

_"Locked on your location, Widow." _Clint spoke over their com unit, his eyes locked on the red-haired figure walking up the stairs to the entrance. She was ravishing in a floor-length black chiffon dress. The dress had a slit up one leg, short enough to hide a thigh holster, but long enough to leave a view of her creamy legs. Delicate silver designs etched around one hip and the one sleeved shoulder. Her red hair was curled into an elaborate bun, leaving a few strands to border her face. Her porcelain skin was flawless, and she walked with a regal air, back straight and chin arched. She looked in command, and dangerously sexy.

"Copy, Hawkeye." She murmured, shooting a quick smile at the young supposed bouncer, who looked like he was about to faint.

He smirked as she charmed her way into the building. The Black Widow was a master of her art; deception. Oh, sure, she had a mean right hook, but her real strength, her real talent, was in charming and lying her way to information. To her kill. No one ever expected such a beautiful woman to be a threat. Clint thought her namesake was appropriate. Right now, Natasha Romanoff, his partner, was nowhere to be seen. The Black Widow had come out to play.

He let out a low whistle, voicing his appreciation._"You __look expensive, Romanoff. SHIELD really goes all out, eh?"_

She let out a small snort as she stepped into the massive ballroom. She scanned the crowd and saw the usual people;prissy, annoying people with too much time on their hands. Her black heels clicked as she walked toward the refreshment table, filling a delicate glass with champagne. She scanned the room nonchalantly and leaned against a nearby column. _"Do we have an ID on the guy?" _

"Blonde, green eyes. Scar over his left eye." She responded. Her eyes locked on a man with that certain description, and she immediately shifted her body towards him. Natasha knew his type of man. All the same pieces of shit who wanted to get into her pants. There was only ever one man who had defied those expectations, and there was no way in hell she was going to ever admit that to him. His ego was already too big. He would _never _let her live it down.

She casually walked near the blonde, putting extra sway in her hips. She noticed his attention shift away from the person he was talking to and his eyes landed on her. Hook, line, and sinker. "Possible target in sight. I'm going in." She said, pretending to sip her glass. She winked slowly at the man and saw him smirk at her. He began walking towards her, a smug swagger in his step."Hello. You looking for company,no?" He asked, looking at her like a piece of meat. His voice had a heavy Italian accent.

"Possibly." She said in a French accent, playing up her cover for the night. Beautiful, harmless Sierra Bellaire.

"You are very beautiful, madam. You stand out in this sea of weeds like the blossom you are." He said, drawing his hand forward to finger her red curls. She bit her lip shyly. To the man, the action was enticing. To "Sierra", it was trying to restrain herself from breaking his hand._  
_

_"Someone's a smug little asshole." _Clint muttered into his com, fingering the trigger on his rifle.

She ignored him, and drew closer to the man. "What is your name, handsome?" She purred.

"Emilio Orsino."

Bingo.

She traced a random design on his tuxedo sleeve. "I would love if we could get to know each other outside of this stuffy ballroom, wouldn't you? I think the people can spare their host for a few hours."

She leaned up and breathed in his ear. She shook her head slightly,letting her perfume wrap around him. She saw his eyes glaze over with interest, and he smirked. "I think they can."

(LINE BREAK)

Clint watched as Natasha led the enamored man down an alley from atop his roof, and gripped his rifle. They were now both out in the open. There was no way he was letting his guard down. He didn't underestimate Natasha's abilities, but he was paranoid as hell. Call it a bad habit, but the instinct had saved his ass more than once. Orsino's arms were wrapped tightly around Natasha and they both laughed as they stumbled down the dark street. Clint saw Orsino's hand slip down more than once and gritted his teeth. Control yourself, Barton.

_"Jesus, can't keep his hands off, can he?"_

He saw Natasha give a little shake of her head, and her hand quickly darted out from where it was twined around Orsino's neck and flipped him the bird.

_"That hurts, Romanoff."_ He chuckled.

Lately, he'd begun feeling more and more protective and possessive of his partner, and that fact scared the _fuck_ out of him. He knew the basics of Natasha's past, and it was painfully obvious that she hated anyone having control or possession over her. And he understood that, probably better than most people. Practically being able to joke around and banter with her without her giving you her "ice queen" thing was a fucking incredible achievement. She still didn't trust him fully,_that_ he could tell, but she trusted him enough. That made their partnership all the more significant to him. No matter what he was feeling for her.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he saw Natasha subtly reach for a knife skillfully hidden in the cut of her dress. He relaxed and waited for her to subdue Orsino. Then of course, everything had to go downhill.

He tensed when he suddenly felt a gun muzzle press against the back of his head. "Step away from the rifle before I blow your brains out." A voice whispered. He weighed his options quickly. If he attempted to attack his assailant, he had a shot at disarming him or her. However, Natasha would also be in danger.

He darkened significantly before placing his hands up and backing away from his rifle. A rough needle was shoved into his neck, and he felt the sedative seep into his system, and he blacked out.

Far down below, Natasha noticed Clint's chatter stop and frowned slightly. She put the thought out of her mind and gripped the small knife in her hand. Orsino's lips were still sucking on her neck. She sidled just a little bit closer, inching her blade towards his neck. Suddenly, a hand gripped her wrist. "I wouldn't do that,madam."

She glanced down angrily to see Orsino's face sneer at her. She quickly broke his grip and shoved him back against the wall, snarling viciously. She almost brought the knife down on him, but she felt something stab her in the neck. Immediately, a woozy sensation engulfed her brain, and she stumbled back a bit. Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck. _Damn these fucking drugs were strong. Usually, drugs were only a slight nuisance, but these were strong enough to make her head throb wildly.

"Ugh..." She groaned, trying to draw herself together. Orsino smacked her forcefully, and she collapsed to the ground. The last thing she saw was another figure standing next to the bastard, and then her vision tunneled.

(LINE BREAK)

Clint woke groggily, moaning when he felt his head ache. The after-affects of drugs always hurt. He found himself lying in a blank room, with a large one-way glass pane on one side, and a television screen planted on the wall of the other side. He looked around for a door, but found it to be locked. He pounded his side into the door, but it didn't budge. He growled in frustration. Where the fuck was he? And more importantly, where was _Natasha_?

He heard a faint tapping sound on the other sound of the room, and turned around curiously. The tapping became more apparent as he drew closer. Listening more carefully, he recognized it as Morse code. He hastily pressed his ear against the wall, and counted out the pauses and taps of the person on the other side.

_Barton,are you there? _It was Natasha. She was okay.

He brought his finger up to respond. _Yeah. I'm here. What happened?_

_Turned out Orsino had some back up. Stupid son of a bitch drugged the hell out of me._

Clint had to smile dryly at Natasha's message. Even now, her fierceness never changed.

_Where are we, Barton?_

_I-_

His tapping was interrupted when the television suddenly flickered on and Orsino's ugly sneer appeared. "I see you've both woken up. How was your nap?"

Clint growled. "Terrific. What the fuck do you want, Orsino?"

Orsino flashed a dazzling smile."Merely to give a little punishment. After all, you ruined my wonderful gala, and tried to kill me. I think it's only right if I ruin your night as well." His smile disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

"I think I'll let you sleep a little longer. You must get your rest to prepare for what I have in store for you, agents. Sweet dreams." Clint saw him click something on the monitor below the screen and gas began to leak in from a nozzle the ceiling. Clint raced to the wall, tapping one hand fiercely, the other covering his nose. He had to be quick before the gas knocked him out...again. He felt his senses tingle pleasantly for a minute and his eyes got heavy.

Tapping weakly one more time, he dropped to the floor.

_Stay safe, Romanoff._

Natasha, on the other hand, was spitting furiously. How dare he think she couldn't handle herself! The gas had a slower effect on her, only having a numbing effect in her brain. There was no way in fuck she was going to be knocked out cold again. She glanced up at the hissing gas leaker irritably, and growled. Then she collapsed...again.

Emilio Orsino watched Black Widow and Hawkeye collapse and grinned. He was gleeful. Absolutely gleeful. He had managed to capture the elusive Black Widow and her little boy toy. Of course he had recognized her when she'd stepped into his ball. She was too noticeable, too alluring. The charm was almost too much to be real. And he had many acquaintances who were friends of her former victims. The Black Widow was not smart enough to wear a disguise. She was probably too proud. The bitch deserved to die.

This time he would take his revenge. This time, she would pay.

Four years ago, Emilio had a beautiful fiance, Nicoletta, whose family was swimming in cash. Not only that, she had loved him, and he had loved her. Their families were partnered in the crime mafia of Apulia, and they were going to live a wonderfully evil life together.

On the day of the wedding reception, a strange woman had swept into the room. Emilio didn't remember if she was on the invite list. She was a redhead, and was shockingly beautiful. She congratulated the newlyweds, and asked for a quick picture with the bride.

Smiling graciously, Nicoletta had agreed, giving her new husband one last kiss. Twenty minutes later, Emilio was worried when Nicoletta didn't come back. Traveling outside his family's mansion, he went to the flower garden. Beyond the beautiful rose bushes, she spotted some of the blue fabric of Nicoletta's wedding gown. Calling her name joyfully, he ran towards her direction. His smile faded when he saw her misshapen body. His gorgeous wife had a bullet wound straight into her heart, and sickly sweet-smelling blood seeped out of her wound, staining the grass.

After that, Emilio spent every waking hour devoted to finding his love's killer. Using his illegal resources, he searched up everything about that strange woman, becoming obsessed. He stalked her to the point where he would isolate himself in his home.

Four years later, he returned to society and the mafia with a big bang. He rose in power over Apulia, running various warehouses in drug-dealing, and trying to generate as much attention as he could. He knew Natasha Romanoff had stopped being a contract killer months ago, and had partnered with an _arciere _named Hawkeye. It was a shame. Hawkeye would have to die as well. But frankly, Emilio didn't give a shit. Hawkeye was insane for involving himself with the _demone donna. _

The Widow was a real piece of work. Her history was damn hard to track up, but he had done it. He knew what made her tick. And soon enough, he would make her scream loud enough to shatter windows. To take revenge half-heartedly is to court disaster; either condemn or crown your hatred, as Pierre Corneille had said.

But Emilio had no qualms over taking his revenge all the way. The Black Widow would be his to murder.

**Oh dear. Natasha's got a stalker! A maniacal, insane, revenge driven stalker! PLEASE REVIEW! I'll be posting again next weekend!-BatmanOtaku**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:**Hello friends! We're back with Chapter 3! Thanks to all the reviewers, followers, and favoriters! I love all the support I'm getting for the story. Anyway, let's get on with this! Here's your Clintasha. I'm also looking for any one-shot requests you guys want me to do. Look on my prof for stuff I can do, or PM me. Not to mention put your request in REVIEWS! I also really need a beta if anyone is willing to offer. PLEASE. I WOULD LOVE SOME ASSIST.**

**Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW,FOLLOW, OR FAVE!**

**P.S My very good friend strawburricake was a huge support for this story, but her own stories aren't getting much publicity. It would be so awesome if you could check out her collab story with Hita-chan on Ouran High School Host Club, if you know of it. Thank you so much.**

**P.P.S . To all my other readers who have read or heard of my mess with an old acquaintance and her spamming my reviews for this story, I apologize on behalf of Vivian. She and I have our personal problems, and I am very sorry that she went public with our issues. We have resolved the issues already and I have already deleted all her reviews thus far, and I apologize once more. Fanfiction is a joy to my life, and I don't want to stop. Please do not stop reading! Your support is what keeps me strong!**

It was too quiet for Natasha. She was used to action, to killing, to moving in on a target, to doing _something_. She was no archer like Barton. She wasn't patient. It was weird how Orsino had just gassed them and left them in their cells, separated.

And it was even weirder to be worried about Barton. Every part of Natasha's body twitched. She wasn't used to this feeling, worrying about anyone else. She had been independent for as long as she could remember. Barton just had to squirm his way into her life _and_ her subconscious too.

She knew that Barton hadn't woken up yet, and it would probably take another hour for him to do so. A giant crash sounded at the door and she looked up. The huge steel door was now open and four guards were standing in the doorway, guns up. She merely raised an eyebrow. "Only four?"

One man scowled at her and gestured with his gun. "Move it. And don't you try anything." He warned.

She smirked darkly and held her hands up in surrender. She walked slowly over, looking at the tall man under her thick lashes. "Take me if you want,boys." She purred.

The guard glared at her and grabbed her roughly by the hair, pushing his gun into her back. She didn't even flinch. She stared coolly at the three other guards before she lashed out.

Her foot went backwards and up into the guard's family jewels,elicting a loud yell. She whipped her elbow into his face, sending blood spilling out of his nose. He doubled over and dropped his gun. Natasha leaped on him, wrapping her hands around his neck, snapping it quickly.

The other men were still standing shocked before they actually decided to start shooting. Natasha ducked under her kill, using his body as a shield. Their guns clicked empty sure enough, and she grabbed the gun from off the ground. The Black Widow smirked at the cowering men who'd just earlier been so high and mighty.

She chuckled and looked at them again. Then she popped open the semi-automatic, and emptied out the ammo. She tossed the useless piece of metal over her shoulder, and raised her fists. She crooked a finger at them. Who said the Black Widow couldn't have a little fun? Of course, her definition of fun involved very different things.

One of the three bravely stepped in, swinging his fist sloppily at her. She easily stopped it with her palm, then twisted ferociously, breaking his wrist. Her leg swept into his stomach and she pounded her fist into his neck. She gracefully flipped over his still falling body, and body slammed the guard behind him. Her hands were wrapped around his neck, about to make another kill, when the intercom buzzed.

_My dear **Natasha**, I don't recommend you try to resist any further. After all, your partner is still in our custody._

Natasha froze at the use of her real name, and dropped the hold she had on the screaming man. So Orsino had known she was coming. But how? Her chances at breaking out Barton weren't very high to start with, and these four were probably just lower henchmen in Orsino's organization. Sighing she stepped back away from the men, and put her hands over her head.

The last man, who'd watched two of his comrades die and one nearly piss his pants, slowly took a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and quickly approached the still woman, snapping them on her wrists. She smirked at his frightened expression and gave him a questioning look. "Well? Take me to your oh so mighty leader." The man nudged her with his gun and she began walking.

(LINE BREAK)

Clint woke up to the sound of gunfire. The sound rang in his ears and he groaned. Rubbing his head and wincing, he walked up curiously to the door and pressed his ear against it. He stiffened when he heard Natasha's voice. _"Well? Take me to your oh-so-mighty leader." _

He cursed colorfully in three different languages. Where the hell were those bastards taking her? He banged his fist against the door, yelling fiercely. He was going to break down this door, and find Orsino and rip him to pieces. He was going to-

_"It's no use trying to break free,Hawk."_

Clint whirled around at the sound of the loudspeakers and the flicker of the television monitor. Orsino's face smirked at him, and Clint resisted the urge to smash his fist into the screen. "Orsino." He said darkly, gritting his teeth.

_"Clint Barton, I presume? And your lovely partner Natasha Romanoff, formerly Natalia Romanova."_

Clint could feel his body freeze over. This maniac knew their names, knew _Natasha's_ former name. "So you know of us. I expect you also knew we were coming." He clenched his fist where the screen couldn't see.

_"You should really tell the bitch to not be so recognizable. It made it almost too easy." _

"Gee, thanks for the advice. Where is she? She's not the only one who tried to kill you. I could have easily shot your head open from where I stood last night. Why just one of us?" Clint might act like a dumbass sometimes(well, most of the time according to Natasha), but he wasn't stupid. Far from it.

_"I have no issues with you, Hawk. Only your pretty Widow. But alas, I cannot allow you to live merely because she cares about you."_

Clint's eyes narrowed further. "What do you want with her? And she won't compromise a mission because of me. She's smarter than that. Heck, she'd probably rather be rid of me than care about me so goddamn much."

_"Don't make me laugh. I know all about that murdering bitch, and how she defected to the no name organization called SHIELD. You've been partners for over nine months, Hawk. The only thing I haven't learned yet, is whether of not you've fucked yet. You're pretty pathetic to want to fuck her anyways. Dead weight, she is."_

Clint once again resisted the urge to pound his hand into the screen. Just _who _the fuck was Emilio Orsino?!

_"But don't you worry your pretty little head about her. I'll deal with you later. Have a nice day, Hawkeye."_

Clint waited for the screen to flicker off, before he finally relented and surged forward, slamming his knuckles into the screen. The mind-numbing pain eased his boiling anger as he growled. He slowly removed his fist and idly wiped his bloody knuckles against his ripped SHIELD uniform. He had had _enough_.

He heard a distant knock on the steel door, and a gruff voice growled, "Dinner." Clint walked closer to the door as it flung open, and two guards stood there, one holding a tray of inedible looking glop, and the other with his gun trained at Clint's head.

Clint edged closer with his hands up, keeping eye contact all three of the men. He could tell when his staring was making them nervous, making them fidget. He smirked darkly and raised his head to spit in one guard's face. The saliva dripped down his cheek, before the man lashed out and smacked the gun across Clint's temple. Clint didn't even spare a groan.

He just attacked right back.

He shot up and kneed the man in the stomach, landing a few, precise punched to the rib area, and punching him across the face for good measure. As the man fell to the ground, barely breathing, the other henchman dropped the tray and grasped the pistol at his side, firing a few rounds. Clint jumped away, flipping acrobatically, driving his feet into the man's chest. Pain flooded into his shoulder, as one of the bullets managed to hit.

He ignored it and focused on the grapple with the last man. Clint pressed both his forearms up against the bigger man's neck, using his arm strength to good use. However, the guard's bulky frame seemed to overwhelm Clint, and he flipped them over. Almost magically, the man produced a serrated knife, and held it right above Clint's neck.

**"Just because some people are bigger than you doesn't mean they automatically win, Barton. Use the available advantages around you." **

Clint groped around on the ground for a while, before his hand closed around the tray the man had dropped earlier. Quickly bringing it up, he smashed it against the guard's head, momentarily loosening his grip on Clint. Clint snatched the knife from his hand and slid it across the man's throat.

He breathed a sigh when the man's eyes dulled and the huge body slumped on top of him. Thank god, Natasha had knocked something into his head in all of their sparring lessons.

He crawled out from under the dead body, and brushed off his mangled clothes. He dragged both the men to the corner of his former cell, and set them against the down, he grabbed the rifle from the first dead man, and unhooked the pistol from the second. Collecting three knives for emergency, he geared himself up. He also grabbed a map from one of the guard's pockets, spreading it open.

The ground base was large, and he was going to have to split himself into fifty different bodies before he could cover this much ground searching for Natasha. He noticed an air duct above his head, and groped around, flinging the cover open. He tucked the paper into his belt, and jumped up, wrapping both hands around, a sewer pipe, gripping it like a gymnastics bar.

He lifted himself up easily and slid in smoothly. He retrieved the map again once he was inside, and began crawling north, in the direction of the central section. He would rip apart this compound if that's what it would take to find her.

**I'm so sorry that this chapter is a little on the short side, but I really wanted to get this chapter out. I really hope that this story turns out a success! So please, keep reviewing, following, and favoriting! Love you all!-BatmanOtaku**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N:** Hello again, everybody! Thank you all for the support! I'm so sorry I'm a little behind on updates, but I was polishing things off with my new beta, Brandi Golightly.**

**I'm going to be doing some one-shots for categories and/or ships. I'd love suggestions! Please PM me on your suggestion or write it in your review!**

**WARNING: This scene has torture, but it's not too grody(at least I hope so...).**

**Thank you SO MUCH for the beta reading, Brandi! You caught a lot of stuff I missed, so thanks for fixing my grammar, haha. Her Clintasha stories rock. Definite must reads. ;)**

**Enjoy, and please review, follow, and/or fave!**

Natasha sat in her chair tapping her foot against the floor. She made no move to struggle against the ropes restraining her, and coldly stared past the two guards in the room with her. This was a lame attempt to intimidate her before Orsino's interrogation for her, trying to make her antsy by letting her wait out her so called punishment.

Orsino soon walked in, his swagger looked blankly up at his sneering face.

"Hey there, handsome." she smirked.

Surprisingly, his sneer only grew larger. He stretched a hand to her face, stroking her chin like she was a cat.

"What a pretty little spider you are. It's too bad that you're also a murdering bitch." He withdrew his hand like her skin burned.

Snapping his fingers, he stepped back and let his guards carry in various items and set them on a nearby table. Natasha strained her neck to see, and identified a blindfold, a syringe and several knives, all varying in size, before the guards blocked her view. She steeled herself for the torture that was sure to come. The knives and the blindfold were obvious. She was expecting the syringe to induce some sort of painful drug.

One of the men stepped up to her with the syringe and jammed it in her neck. She was once again surprised when the drug began numbing her senses instead of injecting pain.

"A little something to hold off your pain," he hissed at her."I am, after all, a courteous host. But," He hissed at her. "Once those drugs wear off, your pain will be more than enough for you to handle."

The blindfold was soon wrapped over her eyes, and she could see nothing. The loss of her sight was irritating, but not panicking. Losing your eyesight would enhance your other senses. Natasha itched to have her vision back. She wanted to be in charge of her own body. Then she would stab the son of a bitch in-

Her ears heard some shuffling and then the sharp sound of a whip smacking against the floor. "I didn't think you were that type of guy, Orsino. Blindfolds and whips?"

She didn't flinch when the rough leather whacked across her mouth. The salty tang of blood filled her mouth, and she felt a few drops drip down her chin. The pain was numbed from the earlier dose of drugs, but it still hurt like hell. She spit out to the side, and felt another lash to her body.

This time, she gagged a little, but held in her bile. She could take much more than this. Those bastards could try, but they couldn't break her.

She could take it. _Thack_. She could take it. _Thack_. She could take it.

(LINE BREAK)

Clint was feeling a little cramped. Okay,make that a lot cramped. The gun he'd taken earlier was poking into his back, and the vent was steadily getting smaller as he crawled through the air duct system. He silently continued through the tunnels, trying not to create too many noises.

Distant chatter came from below him as he saw two guards laugh to each other from below. "Did you see the Black Widow up close? She's a real looker, isn't she? Too bad she's as scary as hell itself."

The second man snorted. "I wonder how the boss is going to break that tough nut. She doesn't look like the type to crack easily."

The first one smirked. "You haven't seen all the stuff Orsino has on her in his computers. It's fucking _creepy_. He spent _four_ years obsessed over that woman. She'll crack alright. He's gone mad, though, if you ask me."

The other mercenary shrugged. "As long as he signs my paycheck, I don't give a damn to what he does."

Clint felt his heart pound in his chest. Four years obsessed over Natasha? What the hell? Computers...

In a split second Clint had removed the cover of the air vent directly over their heads and dropped down on them. His boots knocked into the first man's head, knocking him down. Clint swiftly leapt off the body, and tackled the second man from behind. He viciously twisted his arm behind his back, and straddled him. The man screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The man yelled.

Clint leaned down next to the struggling mercenary's ear. "Where is Orsino's database?" His voice was dangerous.

"I'm not telling you anything! Fuck you!" He snarled at Clint, the side of his face still pressed to the ground,muffling his voice.

Clint's eyes narrowed before he twisted the guy's arm harder. The sound of snapping bones crackled through the air. The guard hissed. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! Okay,okay, I'll tell you!"

Clint's grip softened slightly, but he still kept a firm grip on the man's arm. "It's two doors down from the corridor we just passed. Please just don't kill me!" Clint rolled his eyes before slamming his fist to the guy's temple. He got up from the unconscious man, and began jogging in the opposite direction. He was going to find out what the hell was going on.

And then he was going to bring hell down on this base, and find Natasha.

(LINE BREAK)

Natasha was breathing hard by the time the guard stopped whipping her. Her beautiful dress was torn in various places, and blood oozed out of her wounds. Her hair was grimy and stuck to her face, and her porcelain skin was sweaty. The more or less worse part was when they used their knives to carve shallow Italian words into her arms and legs. She never liked having more than enough reminders that she was a murderess.

The pain was almost overwhelming when the painkillers had worn off. Her body felt like it was on fire and a dozen fucking knives were sticking out of every part of it. Her chest heaved against the tight ropes restraining her.

She could take it. She could take it because she had been hurt by so much more than this. This was easy shit. At least, that was what she told herself.

It had been over an hour already. Was Clint going through the same thing? Where was he? Was he already dead? She immediately pushed the thought out of her head once it appeared. The idiot was stubborn as hell, and a damn good fighter, even though his smart mouth would probably get him into deeper shit.

She heard Orsino give a laugh and she felt the blindfold lift off her face. Orsino smirked sadistically at her in triumph. "I'm impressed that you haven't screamed yet. Not to worry, though. I have many plans for you, my dear. The whips and knives were just a tease."

She stared him down coldly. "Fuck. You. Shit Head." She growled ferociously. Her blood was pounding in her ears, but she shrugged it off. He walked closer and leaned his face right into hers, pulling her head back by grabbing her hair.

For once, in a very long time, Natasha felt real, bone-deep fear. Not for herself, or for her life;she was not afraid to die. She felt fear just by looking into those eyes,those cold, sinful dark eyes. There was something about them. She could see that this man was not afraid of death either. His eyes were filled with insanity.

He put his mouth right next to her ear, so close that she could feel him breathe on her, and spoke the words she had never wanted to hear, never wanted to _imagine_.

"The Red Room is looking for their lost Black Widow, _Natalia_. They are here right now, in fact. And they will not be very happy to see you, I'm afraid."

She stiffened up, and clenched her bound fists hard. Her heavy panting doubled as her panic swelled. The Red Room was here. The Red Room was _here_.

"You left them, Natalia. They don't like deserters, I believe. They don't like traitors. Now, surely you remember the protocol for traitors like you?"

She did. It had been drilled damn hard into their heads never to go rouge on the Red Room. And nobody dared to, because nobody ever wanted to piss off The Red Room. Except for her. The exception to every rule.

Of course, she ran. She ran and ran, across seas and across borders, running away from the consequences of her actions. And she thought she could hold out, because she was the best, and they wouldn't be able to find her, at least not for a long time. And then a certain archer took her in, and gave her some sort of comfort that she truly had left _them_ behind.

She never doubted that they wouldn't find her, though. It was only a matter of time. She was so foolish to hope, so foolish to hope that she could try to be more than a cold hearted killer they made her into._  
_

Her brain seized up even further when the speakers from the corners of the room started emitting a horrible noise that was scarily familiar to Natasha.

Screaming. The sound of endless screaming.

The screams of children. The screams of women, men whose lives _she_ destroyed. She heard people's terror, their fear. She heard crying and insane laughter. She shut her eyes and tried to block out the horrible noises. She whimpered to herself, her conscious mind unscrewed._  
_

This was more painful than the physical torture from before. Her terrors, her fears, had come to life to haunt her. Natasha couldn't focus at all. Her paranoia was starting to take over her head.

Who else was there?! Who else was there to hurt her?! Who was going to control her?! _WHO?_

Orsino watched her close down in front of him with a grim face. He'd created this particular soundtrack built on the weaknesses that he discovered lurked inside the woman.

She shook wildly in her chair, gasping out. He watched her lift her head,open her eyes, and stare at the opposite wall ahead of her. Her pupils were wide and bloodshot. Her face was contorted with desperation.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That is, until she finally, _finally_ opened her dainty mouth and let out a piercing, terrifying scream.

He sighed happily to himself as he continued to watch the spectacle. Her pain was his pleasure. _Nicoletta, I have avenged you, my love._

On the other side of the compound, Clint was hacking into the group of computers and monitors positioned in the spacious room. Bodies littered the ground, the former guards dead at Clint's feet.

His frantic typing echoed through the room, as he hacked his way into Orsino's personal files. Clint was getting seriously freaked as he pulled up picture after picture of Natasha. Her on top of a building, in a dress, reading, there were even pictures of her when she was a child.

Then there were the files. Diaries, journals, all of Orsino's research on the Black Widow were on display. Clint's eyes widened in horror when he read the horrible fantasies the madman had dreamt up for his Widow. He was a _sick_ bastard.

Clint scrolled over an early journal, studying for anything important when he read an entry dated about four years ago.

_March 2004_

_It has been a week since Nicoletta's funeral. The pain is fresh in my heart, as I move far from Apulia to a northern corner of Europe. I don't like it when my things are taken from me. The first step to removing this pain is to find out who killed Nicoletta. That red-haired woman...who is she?_

_June 2005_

_The Black Widow is a monster that needs to be put down for good. Her evil has sent my poor Nicoletta to the depths of hell. She deserves the same. I want to make that woman scream for me, for Nicoletta. I want to feel her pain. But first, I need to find what makes her tick, as the Americans say. Then I will finally make my love happy._**  
**

_Sometime in 2007_

_The days pass by as I continue my hunt for the Widow. How long has it been? I no longer remember the date. Has it been four years already? Four years of my life wasted on this woman. She takes not only my wife, but my time as well. It has been too long since I have walked among other people besides the servants of my household. _

_2008_

_Ha! I've found her! And lo and behold, she is traveling to Apulia of all places. The saying, 'What comes around goes around' is quite literal! I have already taken steps to reclaiming my place in society. I shall finally be able to reunite with the Black widow after four long years. It's too bad the reunion will not be pleasant, I'm afraid._

Clint almost threw up from reading the entries. _Oh god. _He took a deep breath and began deleting the files.

Halfway through, Clint heard a feminine scream ring outside in the hallway. He would know that voice anyway. And if there was one thing he knew about Natasha Romanoff, it was that she _never_ screamed.


	5. UPDATE ON PROGRESS

**Hey everyone! Just a little reassurance to the readers out there who are wondering where the heck I am.**

**Scarred is indeed still being continued. I WILL UPDATE ASAP.**

**This past month has just been horrible for me. School shit and I had a terrible cold earlier too...**

**THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO STILL BELIEVE IN ME. I AM SO SORRY TO KEEP YOU GUYS WAITING. I WILL EXTRA HARD IF YOU GUYS CAN JUST BE A LITTLE PATIENT WITH ME, THEN IT WOULD MEAN THE WORLD.**

**Thank you so much, Brandi Golightly for beta-ing this story! **

**And thank you once again, to all my beautiful readers.**

**-BatmanOtaku**


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